


Under Paper Skies

by InterruptingDinosaur



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Author!Steve, Because Steve writes under a pen name, Copious amounts of emailing, M/M, Meet-Cute, Secret Identities, Steve and Bucky are trapped at the airport, and lots of pining, the airport AU meets author AU meets You've Got Mail AU that no one asked for, they are both clueless idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:25:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4480916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterruptingDinosaur/pseuds/InterruptingDinosaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Bucky wants is to get back to New York in time for his meeting, but his luck runs out when a blizzard traps him in D.C. It gets even worse when the guy looking like Bucky’s every dirty fantasy come to life catches him giggling at the erotic thrillers in the romance section of the airport bookstore.</p><p>So much for making a good first impression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in this one night town

**Author's Note:**

> Now with an accompanying [music playmix](http://8tracks.com/tina220/find-your-way-back)!

   
_You're the one with the cavalier smile,_  
_I'm the one with the open mile,_  
_Bright lights with no regrets…_

-Ingrid Michaelson, “One Night Town”

 

\---

 

 

_The United Airlines flight 343 bound for John F. Kennedy International Airport scheduled for 16:00 has been delayed until further notice due to severe weather conditions._

 

Bucky was on his way to Gate B-34 when the announcement came over the intercom. He cursed and checked his watch, realizing that unless the snow storm died down in the next hour, there was no way he was going to make it back to New York in time. He stopped to ask one of the attendants at his gate about the delay, but she gave him an apologetic look and told him that he was going to be here for a while.

 

Pulling out his phone, he made a panicked call to Natasha, begging if she could cover his ass for the meeting he was supposed to be at this evening and promising unlimited favors in the future if she could pull this one out of the bag.

 

Having worked for Hydra for the past several years, Bucky knew Pierce did not take failures lightly. Hydra was an unforgiving company, and though they weren’t exactly Bucky’s ideal employer, he worked hard to get to his current position. He was reluctant to let that go for the off chance that something better might come along.

 

After Natasha reassured him that she would take his place during the presentation and explain everything to Pierce, Bucky breathed a shaky breath of mixed relief and anxiety. There was nothing he could do now except wait.

 

The terminal gate had a large sitting area with the generic airport rows of chairs that were stuck together, some of which were already filled with a mix of waiting passengers, a few of them cheerfully optimistic while some looked as irritated as Bucky felt. The wide, glass windows afforded what would have been a great view of the planes outside if it wasn’t just a white-out from the blizzard.

 

After twenty minutes of alternately checking his phone and email, he attempted to amuse himself with people watching for a bit. A tired looking family of four had fallen asleep on each other’s shoulders, a pair of lovestruck teenagers shared their music, and a lone, blond guy was hunched forward as he wrote in his notebook.

 

This got boring soon, and Bucky got up to meander around as chance to stretch his legs. He stopped by the bathrooms and strolled past the restaurants and food court without any real desire to get anything to eat.

 

He shuffled along the narrow aisles of a gift shop, taking in the hanging key chains, stuffed animals, snow globes, and other cheesy memorabilia while holding his messenger back to keep from knocking anything over.

 

Ducking into the bookshop next door, he hoped that something in there could take his mind off of everything. The store, like the others in the airport, was brightly lit with a dizzying array of products to choose from. Bucky noncommittally browsed the maze of shelves that offered the spines and beguiling covers of their books. With work taking up so much of his time, he didn’t keep up with what book trends were popular, and he wasn’t sure what he was in the mood for.

 

He walked past the Non-Fiction section and he was faced with a whole shelf dedicated to promoting Tony Stark’s biography. Out of curiosity, Bucky randomly flipped through the book and found nothing but humble brags and self-indulgent bullshit.

 

Bucky discovered the Romance section, a quieter spot of the store, and was skimming through a random page of a bodice ripper romance that had a shirtless chest on the front that had caught his attention. He was quietly laughing at the terrible writing, baffled at how anything that contained phrases like “dick aneurism” and “throbbing meat wand”1 could actually be published.

 

He didn’t notice the interloper until there was a strangled cough. Bucky’s jaw may have dropped open a bit because the hottest guy he had ever laid eyes on was standing there with a look of mild surprise. His neat, blond hair and blue plaid shirt gave him a distinctive “boy-next-door” vibe, except his muscles and broad shoulders conjured up fantasies more along the lines of “lumberjack”. He was like Bucky’s every dirty dream come to life.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

Bucky was acutely aware of his own disheveled look and rumpled clothes. He’d barely slept more than six hours in the last two days while in D.C. He hadn’t even bothered to shave this morning when he had to finalize the last details with a client before rushing to the airport. Now, it was just the worst kind of luck that Bucky was standing in front of the perfect human specimen.

 

They stared in stunned silence until the other guy’s eyes drifted down to the Bucky was holding. A smirk spread on those luscious lips as recognition registered on his face. Bucky wanted to die from embarrassment from being caught reading terrible smut that was thinly veiled as literature, but the belligerent and confrontational part of him refused to back down. He snapped the book shut, daring the guy to say something.

 

After a moment, the walking wet dream got the hint and slowly backed away. When he was gone, Bucky wanted to smack himself with the book, hopefully hard enough that he could forget the whole incident ever happened.

 

The guy was over by the magazines with his back to the rest of the store, and Bucky made a beeline over to safer territory.

 

In the Thrillers and Action section, he grabbed a book at random that had a cover that looked like it might be interesting. After a quick skim, he put the book back and took another one that was propped up on display, but he was also disappointed by the summary of that one as well. After a few more times of opening and closing books, a dark-haired man in a beige, sweater vest standing near him took pity on him. “So many books to choose from,” he commented casually.

 

“I guess,” Bucky said, still not looking up from where he was half-reading the back of the book and keeping an eye on the hot, blond guy.

 

“Do you have a favorite?”

 

Bucky took a moment to realize that the stranger was still talking to him. “Not really.”

 

“If you’re looking for a book to kill time, I really recommend _Captain America_ ,” he said. He pulled out a hardcover book from the shelf and held it out to Bucky who reluctantly put his back to accept the offered one. He flipped through it, not really registering any of the words.

 

“What’s so great about it?” Bucky studied the cover, which depicted a man whose face was hidden by the shadows, wearing a blue uniform and holding a round shield.

 

“It’s got action and great characters. The writing is fantastic and the dialogue is sharp. Trust me; it pulls you in from the first page.”

 

He thanked the helpful stranger and headed to the checkout with the book, still avoiding the man from earlier.

 

The weather still hadn’t improved when Bucky got back to Gate B-34. He checked his phone again (nothing) and restrained himself from calling Natasha, knowing that she was probably in the middle of a conference call. Pulling out the bottle of water he’d gotten from a vending machine and his newest purchase, Bucky opened the book and began reading.

 

At some point, Bucky became dimly aware of a disembodied voice over the PA system as he returned to reality again. After determining that the message was about a different flight, he went back to his book. As he read the last pages of _Captain America_ , he gripped the book tightly, floored by the final scene of the story. In the end, Bucky felt the satisfaction of finishing an excellent book, but also the burning need to know whether the Captain survived the plane crash and whether he would ever be united the best friend he was secretly in love with.

 

Bucky checked his watch and was surprised to find that over three hours had already passed. He checked his phone and there were still no messages. Frowning, he texted Natasha, and then, because he was desperate enough, sent emails to Dottie and Brock, asking for an update on the meeting that he’d missed.

 

It was dark now, but it still continued to blizzard outside. Standing up to stretch, he looked around the terminal gate and noticed that the number of people had dwindled. The family and the teenaged couple from before were gone, but the blond guy with the notebook was still there. Bucky gave a start as he recognized the shirt and the jeans, realizing it was the same guy from the bookshop.

 

As if he felt Bucky’s gaze on him, he looked up from his notebook and met his stunned stare. Bucky felt his temperature rise a few degrees as he mentally cataloged the square jaw and long eyelashes. It was unfair how good this guy could look after being trapped in the airport for hours.

 

Bucky resisted the temptation to lick his lips, a nervous habit that he’d never lost. Shaking himself free from the trance, he broke eye contact, grabbed his belongings in the most dignified way possible, and all but ran out of there.

 

After splashing cold water on himself in the bathroom, Bucky resolved to go back to the bookstore to buy everything else S. Grant Rogers had published, and put the blond god out of his mind.

 

\---

 

Steve wasn’t surprised when his flight back to New York had been delayed, given the weather. He just wished he’d listened to his agent, Phil, and booked a morning flight rather than a late afternoon one.

 

On the bright side, he told himself, he might as well use the time waiting to write, but he was currently stuck on a confrontation between his two main characters and wasn’t sure which direction he should take the scene. He was brainstorming in his notebook when raised voices made him look up.

 

From where he was sitting, Steve could see the back of a guy anxiously asking a harried attendant when the flight would resume. The guy didn’t seem to understand that they were in the middle of a fucking snow storm. Even from behind, he looked like the business type with a white, button-down shirt and well-fitted pants that showed off his ass (not that Steve was checking him out… much).

 

Steve kept an eye on the exchange for a few more minutes, just in case he had to stop the harassment, but the woman seemed capable of handling herself, and the guy eventually pulled out his phone and was loudly complaining to whoever Natasha was. Steve rolled his eyes and tried to ignore him, but his end of the conversation was loud.

 

“I absolutely need you to do this for me. I owe you.” A pause. “It’s this fucking blizzard. We’re grounded for who knows how long.”

 

What a dick. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that the weather had suddenly taken a turn for the worse.

 

“Yeah, yeah, you love me though. I’ll talk to you later, Nat.”

 

After the man quieted down, Steve eventually got back into his writing, but the flow was stilted and the scene wasn’t working. He gave up. He did a few sketches of the scene he was trying to create in an attempt to focus his mind, but even that didn’t help his writer’s block either. He dug through his backpack, but found that he’d put the wrong reading book in his backpack and the one he’d been halfway through had ended up in the luggage.

 

It didn’t look like his flight was going anywhere without him, so he headed to the bookstore, hoping to find something to inspire him.

 

As he passed by Tony Stark’s display, Steve mentally calculated on how many copies of the biography he’d be able to squiggle unibrows with a permanent marker before he got caught and thrown out. As tempting as it was, Steve convinced himself that he was above such petty vandalism. He’d met Stark a few times on a professional basis, but Steve but found that the billionaire was a lot more high maintenance than he cared to cater to.

 

Steve continued browsing around the shop, taking his time and enjoying being surrounded by books. He picked up a cookbook for Clint that promised easy to make meals, and a collection of short stories for Sam, but he still didn’t have a book for himself. Steve briefly wondered what kind of a selection of gay romances the airport bookstore carried.

 

Steve had heard the giggling before he had turned corner, and he’d expected to find a kid, hidden in the back of the romance books, reading the steamy scenes. Instead, there was a guy that Steve could only describe as the personification of sex itself.

 

Steve swallowed wrong and choked, causing the man to look up, alarmed. The man’s dark hair was tousled in an effortless way that made Steve want to want to run his fingers through it, but it was the intensity of those icy blue eyes that made him realize just how much trouble he was in.

 

_Oh, Jesus._

 

After what felt like a very long time, Steve tore his stare away and saw the book the man had been previously laughing at. He recognized the cover as a one of those pulp erotica novels that were always good for a laugh. Steve smiled, a sliver of hope making his heart beat faster, thinking that he could perhaps redeem himself from the terrible first impression and start a conversation with that book.

 

However, the guy no longer looked amused. He clapped the book shut with a sound of finality and scowled at Steve.

 

Steve could tell he’d made a mistake with his interruption, and fearing he was going to further embarrass himself, he spun around and left before he could do or say anything else stupid.

 

When he eventually returned to his terminal gate with a juice and apple strudel, he opened his laptop and tried to work on a different chapter of his novel. He considered texting Sam and telling him the whole story as a funny “guess what just happened” story, but it was still too fresh and uncomfortable.

 

He redirected his disappointment into this writing again. He was almost two thousand words into a scene where the characters finally started to acknowledge their feelings for each other when a gurgle of laughter interrupted Steve. He looked up to find the source of the noise and saw the sexy guy from the bookshop just sitting a couple chairs down from Steve. Instantly, his annoyance vanished, and as he turned back to his computer screen, Steve wondered if the other guy had seen him.

 

Steve took a moment to calm himself, and tried not to make it obvious that he was watching him out of the corner of his eye, but became excited again when Steve noticed that the guy was reading _his_ book!

 

There was something else about this guy that was familiar. It suddenly clicked when Steve remembered him as the guy who was whining about the delayed flight and trying to boss everyone around. Wrinkling his nose in dislike, he tried ignore him in favor of writing again, but he’d lost his inspiration.

 

A tiny, insistent thought at the back of Steve’s mind wondered if this other man was bossy in bed too.

 

Sighing, he pushed that image away and reminded himself that there was no way a guy as good looking as that was available… or gay, if the earlier conversation with Natasha was anything to go by.

 

Steve stashed his computer back into the backpack and pulled out his sketchbook again. He started to sketch the guy, marveling at the way his long legs were stretched in front of him and the lines of his forearms with his shirtsleeves rolled up. Steve tried to imitate that jaw line with graphite and paper, but it just didn’t seem do his handsome face justice, especially every time he sighed or laughed at something in _Steve’s_ book.

 

They sat like that for hours, Steve covertly sketching his subject and the other guy reading. Eventually, Sex-on-Legs finished his book and stood up to stretch. When Steve glanced up, his mouth went dry.

 

Their eyes met again, but Steve didn’t look away this time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 [Dramatic reading of Sandra Hill's _Rough and Reading_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c36jCk-Cmvs)
> 
> \---
> 
>   
> So... dipping my toes into the Steve/Bucky pairing. Thoughts, comments, and corrections would be greatly appreciated!  
> 


	2. all my luck could change

_I need the sun to break, you've woken up my heart,_  
_I'm shaking, all my luck could change,_  
_Been in the dark for weeks, and I've realized you're all I need…_

-James Bay, “Need the Sun to Break”

_\---_

 

As it turned out, the sequel, _The Winter Soldier,_ was still in the works with no confirmed release date.

 

Bucky returned back from the bookstore, disappointed and frustrated. Who left their books on a cliffhanger like that? A quick search on his computer revealed other _Captain America_ fans that were just as impatient as Bucky.

 

Surprisingly, there was very little information on the author, S. Grant Rogers. He had started out as an artist before turning to writing, his debut novel landing a place on _New York Times_ ’ Bestsellers list. There were a couple of print interviews, and Rogers’ answers were sincere with a dash of sarcasm. He explained that he’d become an author because he was sick of the typical two-dimensional heroes that dominated today’s action genre.

 

Intrigued, Bucky continued to hunt for more clues, but there weren’t any pictures or videos of Rogers. The general understanding amongst fans was that he was very shy and preferred to keep out of the public eye.

 

After some more digging, Bucky discovered something called fan fiction; he bookmarked that for later. He also discovered a community of fan art that impressed him with various depictions of the characters. Some were quirky and cute while others, with more active imaginations, depicted more explicit scenes (he bookmarked those too). However, none of the drawings or fancasts quite accurately portrayed the Captain the way Bucky had imagined him in his head. If he was being quite honest, Bucky would say that he’d pictured the Captain looking exactly like Tall, Blond, and Gorgeous who was still sitting four seats down from Bucky.

 

Sighing, he put away his laptop and pulled _Captain America_ out his bag.

 

“Again?” Bucky peeked up in surprise. Lumberjack Ken had spoken, much to Bucky’s embarrassment and delight. His voice was deeper than he’d expected and an involuntary shiver ran down Bucky’s spine.

 

Bucky glanced around to double check that the guy was talking to him. “You mean my book?”

 

“Uh,” the guy floundered, as if what he’d said had accidentally slipped out. “I thought you finished it already.”

 

“So? It’s good. Have you read this before?”

 

He looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, a couple times. It’s alright.”

 

“Don’t knock it. I like it.”

 

The guy looked mortified. “No, of course. I didn’t mean to say anything about your interests or your book.”

 

Bucky gave the guy a puzzled look. “What’s your problem with it _?_ ”

 

“Nothing,” he clearly lied with a shrug of his shoulders.

 

“Are you sure we’re even talking about the same book? _Captain America_?”

 

“The skinny kid who gets scientifically experimented on?”

 

“Yeah, and then he becomes one of the greatest American heroes. He even punches Hitler.” Bucky was sitting straight up now, ready to defend his new favorite book and author.

 

“He didn’t punch Hitler,” the guy said with an indulgent smile, and Bucky got distracted by the way it lit up his face. He almost forgot what his next sentence was going to be.

 

“Yes, he did,” he countered.

 

“No, he just punched out a guy dressed up as Hitler for show during the USO tours. He never actually meets Hitler in the book.”

 

He was right. Damn it. “I was testing you,” Bucky said as the guy grinned again.

 

They lapsed into silence. Bucky reread the same paragraph twice before accepting that he wasn’t going to be able to focus with _him_ so close by. “So, I guess you won’t be reading _The Winter Soldier_ when it comes out," Bucky called out.

 

“I wouldn’t put it like that.”

 

“So, you are going to read it?”

 

“Yeah, I suppose,” he sighed resignedly.

 

“I don’t understand how unimpressed you are with _Captain America_.”

 

“It’s not that impressive,” he shrugged again.

 

“Are you kidding me? It might be the best the book I’ve read! And that ending!” Bucky grabbed his chest, pantomiming a mock heart attack. “I need to know what happens to the Captain after his plane crash.”

 

“It’s pretty obvious that he survives; otherwise, what’s the point of the sequel?”

 

“Maybe it tells the story from his best friend’s point of view.”

 

“That’s a rather cheap grab for cash, don’t you think?”

 

“I’d buy it,” Bucky shrugged.

 

The guy leaned over with his hand outstretched. “I’m Steve.”

 

“Bucky,” he reciprocated as he tried not to be too diverted by the firm grip of Steve’s handshake.

 

“It’s nice to finally not call you ‘the guy from the bookstore’ in my head.”

 

Bucky dropped his head and gave a self-conscious laugh. “You caught me at a bad time. I don’t usually read the romances, but that one was particularly funny.”

 

“I know,” Steve laughed. “I recognized the imprint. They’re notorious for publishing some pretty terrible stuff.”

 

“And here I thought the phrase ‘the sound of galloping abs’ was the height of literary genius.” Bucky repeated the choice of metaphors that the romance author had used until the two of them were hysterically laughing. They drew the stares of the other passengers in the terminal, but neither of them noticed.

 

Steve grabbed his stuff and moved to the seat next to Bucky’s (much to his delight; he could now stare into Steve’s eyes up close now).

 

“Trail mix?” Steve offered.

 

Bucky suddenly realized how hungry he was. His last meal had been hours ago, and between stressing out and being engrossed in _Captain America_ , he’d forgotten all about food. “Thanks,” he said, helping himself to some almonds.

 

They talk about books while they finish off Steve’s bag of mixed nuts and fruit. Steve preferred historical fiction and spy thrillers. Bucky admitted that he didn’t have enough patience to read murder mysteries. He tended to flip to the end, needing to know who the murderer was before the characters worked it out.

 

“But that defeats the whole point of the book!” Steve argued.

 

“If the ending is worth getting to, then I’ll go back and read it properly,” Bucky said, a touch too casually, enjoying the way Steve was getting riled up.

 

“How can you stand the spoilers?”

 

“It’s not a spoiler if it’ll tell me whether or not the book is going to be a waste of my time. Don’t tell me you’re one of those people that finishes the book even if it’s boring.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Life is short and I’m not going to waste it on undeserving literature.”

 

“Okay, Mr. Critic,” Steve snorted. “What do you consider ‘deserving literature’?”

 

“How about we make it into a game?” Bucky smiled rakishly. “Name three of your favorite books, and if any of them are ones that I like, coffee’s on me.”

 

Steve considered it for a moment, before hoarsely replying, “What you don’t like anything I like?”

 

“Then you can buy coffee.”

 

“Uh, okay,” Steve agreed. “It’s kind of hard to just pick three though.” He thought for a bit. “ _Generals Die in Bed_.” 1

 

“Never read that one.”

 

“‘Rip Van Winkle’.”2

 

“Which is technically a short story,” Bucky pointed out, “but, continue.”

 

“And, uh… _Lord of the Rings_.” 3

 

“Well,” Bucky grinned as Steve stared at him, waiting for his reply. “I guess I’m buying.”

 

Bucky left to get coffee as well as some sandwiches and muffins, hoping that Steve didn’t have any allergies. When he returned, Steve was writing in his notebook, but as Bucky got closer, he realized that the pencil strokes were too broad and that he was drawing. He quickly closed it when Bucky handed him his coffee and food.

 

“What are you drawing,” he asked casually.

 

“Nothing,” said Steve. He was a shit liar and Bucky decided that this went in the adorable column.

 

“Really? So, it wasn’t naked drawings?”

 

Steve choked a bit on the coffee he’d just taken a sip of. “No,” he spluttered, and shoved a mouthful of ham sandwich in his mouth so he was saved from talking.

 

“So, what brings you to D.C.?”

 

“I’m, um, doing some research,” Steve said vaguely after he’d swallowed. “You?”

 

“Work-related stuff,” Bucky explained. “I was supposed to be in a meeting tonight, but then this happened.” He gestured to the storm.

 

“Is New York home for you?”

 

“Yup,” Bucky said proudly. “Brooklyn. Born and raised.”

 

Steve tipped his head. “Huh, really? Same.”

 

They talked about growing up in Brooklyn and how strange it was that they’d never bumped into each other until this chance meeting in D.C. Bucky told him about his little sister, Becca. Steve revealed that he’d gotten beaten up pretty badly as a kid (which Bucky was having hard time believing, given Steve’s size).

 

“Hey, you know who else is from Brooklyn?” Bucky grinned. “The Captain and the Soldier.”

 

Steve groaned good heartedly. “Are you going to bring everything back to that book?”

 

“It’s a good book, and everyone should love it,” Bucky defended passionately. “What don’t you like about it?”

 

Steve licked his lips nervously, and suddenly, Bucky’s, whole world narrowed to the thought of kissing him. Maybe he could push him back against the chair and crawl into his lap. After he was done with his mouth, maybe he could spread some more kisses on that jaw and trace a path down his neck towards his—

 

“Bucky!”

 

Bucky snapped out of his reverie and realized he had completely missed Steve’s response. “Sorry, I remembered something,” he said, knowing it was a terrible excuse. Hell, he didn’t even know if Steve was interested in guys, and Bucky was already fantasizing doing indecent things to him in public.

 

“We can talk about something else.”

 

“No, please,” assured Bucky. “You were saying?”

 

“I was just saying how overly idealistic the Captain is at times,” Steve sighed.

 

“And that’s a bad thing?”

 

“He thinks he can fix everything, but the world doesn’t work that way.”

 

Bucky furrowed his brow. “Sure, the Captain might not be able to fix all the problems in the world by himself, but he becomes a symbol of justice and perseverance. People see him and are motivated to do good in the world.”

 

“You talk about him like he’s a real person,” Steve snorted

 

Bucky paused to bite his lip, trying to articulate how he felt. “I know this sounds cheesy, but heroes aren’t always the people who can fly and have super powers. The best heroes are the ones that inspire you. They make you want to be the best version of yourself.”

 

“The Captain inspires you?”

 

“I’m saying that anything and anyone can be hero when you least expect it.”

 

Steve was quiet for a moment, but then whispered, “Well, how can I argue with that?”

 

Steve was staring at him with a strange intensity, as if Bucky’s speech had just shifted his entire perspective. His face hovered closer and closer to Bucky’s until he was close enough to count every freckle, close enough see the flecks of different blues around his iris. Their lips touched, just barely a brush before Steve stilled, waiting for Bucky’s reaction.

 

Despite his daydreams just moments earlier, Bucky was stunned, and when he didn’t move, Steve started to lean back. Bucky managed to unfreeze himself and surge forward, grabbing hold of Steve’s shirt to pull him closer. Steve slanted his mouth against Bucky’s, hot and desperate for attention. Bucky slipped his hands around Steve’s jaw, cradling his head as he deepened the kiss.

 

The broke away when people started to wolf whistle. Someone might have even taken a photo with their cell phone, but Bucky really couldn’t bring himself to care. His heart was racing. Steve’s lips were red and irresistibly tempting.

 

“Sorry,” gasped Steve, sounding as breathless as Bucky felt. He wanted to lean forward to taste him again.

 

_The United Airlines flight 343 bound for John F. Kennedy International Airport previously scheduled for 16:00 has been rescheduled for tomorrow morning at 09:00, weather permitting._

 

“Damn,” Bucky cursed. “I’m not going to get back to New York tonight.” He pulled out his phone again. Nothing. Still radio silence from everyone, which was beginning to worry him. He stood up, and Steve looked up at him with an expression of sadness and disappointment. Bucky realized that Steve thought that he was leaving him already.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

“Where are we going?” Steve asked uncertainly.

 

“The planes aren’t going anywhere tonight, and I don’t plan on sleeping at the airport.” Bucky was already on his phone, trying to find the nearest available hotel. Most of the ones within close vicinity of the airport were already full, but he managed to find one still with vacancies not too far away.

 

“You want me to spend the night with you?” Steve said, still sounding confused.

 

“I never said that,” Bucky said innocently. He smirked as he leaned closer to Steve. “But now that you’ve put the thought in my head, how can I say no?” he purred.

 

Steve turned a delightful shade of pink, and Bucky was curious how far down that blush went. “What about Natasha?”

 

“Natasha?” It was Bucky’s turn to be confused. “What about Natasha? How do you know Natasha?”

 

Steve looked guilty. “I couldn’t help but overhear your phone conversation earlier. Isn’t she—”

 

“She’s my friend,” explained Bucky firmly. “I called her because I needed her to take my place for a meeting I couldn’t make.”

 

“Oh,” Steve said, looking properly chastised. “So you don’t have a girlfriend?”

 

“I don’t have a boyfriend either,” Bucky teased. “I guess I should ask too. Are you seeing anyone?”

 

“No,” Steve shook his head. “Except, there’s this one guy…” Bucky’s good mood immediately plummeted. “… that I met barely four hours ago at the airport, and now, he’s just invited me back to his hotel room.”

 

Relieved, Bucky grinned and hovered closer to Steve. “Sounds dangerous.”

 

Steve licked his lips. Bucky zeroed in on them again. Damn, they were distracting.

 

“I like to live dangerously.”

 

\---

 

It was dangerous, Steve decided later, the way Bucky knew how to use his mouth to make him groan. He could feel Bucky’s mouth curving into a self-satisfied smirk, the stubble on his face rubbing Steve’s skin sensitive and adding a delicious friction.

 

He moaned and ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair and used the opportunity to tug his head back up to his mouth. He could taste the remnants of bitter coffee on his tongue as he teased and nipped, the kiss taking his breath away.Steve was taking his time, slowly mapping the skin and muscles of Bucky’s body, sighing quietly as he continued his exploration.

 

Steve had lost his shirt at some point, and Bucky’s talented hands were in the process of working on his belt while distracting him with little kisses along the column of his neck.

 

He rolled Bucky over in a smooth maneuver and trapped his hands above his head as Steve decided it was his turn to play dirty. Soon, their teasing turned into something more urgent as they pressed closer to each other until there was nothing between them.

 

Steve was sure they could both feel the undercurrent of completeness and something else. It was there, just underneath the smooth skin, pulsing with each beat of their hearts, and in the whispered moans and sobs of pleasure.

 

Later, their limbs were tangled and their bodies pressed skin to skin, both sated and heavy with sleep. Steve murmured, “You never told me your books.”

 

“Hmm?” Bucky asked from where he had his head on Steve’s chest,

 

“Your three favorite books. I told you mine.”

 

“ _The Bourne Identity 4, Captain America_, and…”

 

“And?” Steve prompted.

 

“ _Lord of the Rings 3_,” Bucky slurred sleepily. Steve gave a quiet chuckle, and eventually drifted off to sleep with the quiet rhythm of Bucky’s breathing.

 

\---

 

Bucky’s phone was ringing somewhere. Bleary eyed, he looked up and saw that the bedside clock read 4:30. It was too damn early.

 

Cursing, he tried to delicately slip out from underneath Steve’s arm, which had been thrown over Bucky’s hips. Steve shifted and rolled over, but still continued to sleep. Bucky gave him a fond glance before resuming his infuriating task.

 

He dug through the pockets of his pants and squinted at the display. He tiptoed into the bathroom and shut the door. “What the hell, Natasha?” Bucky answered.”

 

“Listen, I need you to go to the 24-hour gym on 26th Ave N.” Natasha’s voice was low and urgent, but Bucky’s sleep addled mind barely registered that. “Locker 117. The combination for the lock is—”

 

“Wait, wait, wait. What are you talking about? I sent you a hundred messages and you decide now is the best time to get back to me about the meeting?”

 

She paused before answering. “James, there was no meeting. Have you seen the news since yesterday?”

 

“No,” he admitted. He’d been too busy fucking Steve, but he didn’t think Natasha would appreciate that piece of information. He winced at the cold porcelain against his bare ass as he perched on the ledge of the tub. “What the fuck is going on?”

 

“Pierce got arrested. The whole company is going under.”

 

“What!?” he exclaimed, but then remembered Steve in the other room, he settled for a quiet snarl. “And you didn’t think to mention this to me at any point yesterday?”

 

“Everything is a shit show right now. The feds stormed the building yesterday and pretty much arrested everyone. Hydra has been associated with all sorts of terrorist organizations, weapons trade, human trafficking, and that’s just scratching the surface.”

 

Bucky sucked in a breath, but couldn’t say he was entirely surprised. He knew Hydra had some shady operations, but he didn’t think it was that serious. The company hired the best corporate lawyer to find loopholes in contracts and laws, skating close to breaking the law without technically doing anything illegal… on the exterior.

 

“That’s not the worst part though,” she continued.

 

“What?” When Natasha didn’t answer, Bucky gave a mirthless laugh. “Come on, Romanoff, how bad can it be?”

 

“Your name’s been tied to at least a dozen assassinations in the last several years. They think you’re a main component in all of this.”

 

Bucky felt his blood run cold. “Nat, I fucking swear I had nothing to do with it,” he hissed when he found his voice again.

 

“I don’t doubt that for a second, but you have to understand how it all looks right now with all the executives behind bars right now. Zola, Sitwell, Whitehall, Bakshi, Ward,” she listed.

 

“Is there anyone who isn’t corrupt?”

 

“Maybe, it’s not entirely clear yet.”

 

“Jesus,” he whispered, just barely holding it together now. “I had no idea.”

 

“They’ve been using you for years.”

 

“Fuck! Nat, what do I do?”

 

She repeated he first portion of the instructions. “Get the key from the gym locker. There’s a burner phone in there too. I’ll call you on that later. Then, go to Goliath National Bank, the one that’s in Arlington, northwest of the cemetery. Safety deposit box number 4016. There’s a USB in there with information on Hydra. I need you to bring it to me.”

 

“You knew?” he accused. “You never said a fucking word to me and you’ve known the whole time?”

 

“I couldn’t say anything. I was approached by government agencies two years ago. Sharon and Bobbi knew about it because they were undercover FBI agents, but they needed someone who’d been with the company longer.”

 

“And that’s where you come in?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He blew out the breath he’d been holding. “What’s going to happen to me?”

 

“There’s enough information to prove your innocence. I’ll personally make sure of it, James, but you need to go get it now. Rumlow and Underwood are on the lam, and I suspect they’re after the USB too. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if you got in their way.”

 

“This is some messed up shit.”

 

“Stay safe,” Natasha murmured before hanging up.

 

\--- **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **References**  
>  1 _Generals Die in Bed_ (1930) by Charles Yale Harrison  
>  2 “Rip van Winkle” (1819) by Washington Irving  
> 3 _Lord of the Rings (The Fellowship of the Ring,_ 1954) by J. R. R. Tolkien  
>  4 _The Bourne Identity_ (1980) by Robert Ludlum
> 
> \---
> 
> Beta-read by the lovely [Nat](http://mcrdoctorwho.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> I also have a [tumblr](http://chrisevansleftboob.tumblr.com/) now, so maybe come say hi? I'm looking to follow new blogs and make new friends :)


	3. there's distance and there's silence

_If you were here beside me, instead of in New York,_  
_If the curve of you was curved on me,  
_ _I’d tell you that I loved you before I ever knew you._

-Snow Patrol, “New York”

 

\---

 

Steve had suffered a lot of disappointments in his life, but nothing quite compared to the one he felt when he woke up alone in the hotel room.

 

He didn’t understand what he’d done wrong. Everything had been going so well. He’d thought there had been a connection between himself and Bucky, a kind of spark he’d never thought existed outside of stories. They’d laughed and talked, and after that, Bucky had taken him apart with his hands and mouth.  Steve had thought this wasn’t going to be a one-off encounter. He’d wanted to ask to see Bucky again, but in the morning, every trace of Bucky was gone from the room except for the rumpled sheets and the barest hint of his scent on the pillows.

 

He had tried to reassure himself that Bucky hadn’t bailed, and Steve had waited for him to come back. There weren’t any messages with the front desk when Steve had asked, and the concierge had given him a pitying look.

 

Steve flew back to New York feeling like the world’s biggest idiot, and when Sam had picked him up from JFK, he didn’t say anything about Steve’s red-rimmed eyes.

 

Three months later, Phil was breathing down Steve’s neck for his next chapter, but he hadn’t been in the mood to write. “I already sent you an email with the edits on my last chapter,” Steve snapped over the phone. “Can’t you look that over in the mean time?”

 

“You mean your last email?” Phil said, unimpressed. “Because all your last email said was ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, fuck you, whore.’”1

 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and beat his head against a wall. While he didn’t usually drink, he thought it would be a good idea to write while drunk last night, and apparently, he also decided an email to his agent was in order. “I sent the wrong one.”

 

“You don’t say?” Phil replied dryly before sighing heavily. “Steve, something is bothering you. I don’t know what it is. You just haven’t been the same, but if there’s anything I can do to help, you know you can always ask.”

 

“I know,” Steve said, wishing that he could stop moping like a teenager that had just gotten dumped. It wasn’t even like he was dating Bucky. Hell, he didn’t even know his surname or if “Bucky” was even his real name. “I’ll send the next chapter in by the weekend,” he promised.

 

After getting off the phone, Steve sat down at his computer. He tried writing the opening sentences of the next chapter, but no matter how he tried rephrasing them, it just wasn’t working. After another twenty minutes of unproductive writing, he opened up his email instead.

 

There wasn’t too much today in his author inbox. A couple fans had written in, telling him how much they loved _Captain America_.  He replied to them with a quick note of thanks, appreciative that he could make someone’s day with his words.

 

Phil had been pushing for public appearances lately, and Steve was reluctant. He was always so awkward in person around fans. They usually had wonderful things to say to him, and Steve always felt like saying “thank you” wasn’t quite sincere enough, given how much thought and enthusiasm they offered him. At least, with fan mail, he wasn’t pressured to put together a coherent reply on the spot.

 

It was still a mystery how people loved _Captain America_ as much as they did. Steve did not set out to write a bestseller; he had just wanted to get the hero that lived in his head onto paper. He alternated between pride and resentment for his book. He put his heart and soul into the book, but when he reread his published novel, he could see the glaring flaws of his characters and the sentimental and inexperienced writing.

 

Bucky had loved it though, Steve reminded himself. Bucky had read the book with smiles and frowns, and then passionately defended it to Steve after. It made Steve reconsider if maybe he was judging himself a little too harshly.

 

Cutting the thought short, Steve rubbed his eyes and tried to concentrate on anything other than Bucky. He clicked on an email that was sent late last night.

 

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> I have never written to an author before.  I don’t even know why I’m writing to you. For the sake of being heard and feeling like I matter, I guess.
> 
>  
> 
> I could fill this email full of sycophantic words and love for _Captain America_. It is true that I love everything about it, but I think what I need most to tell you is this.
> 
>  
> 
> Because of you, my life has changed, and I don’t even know you.
> 
>  
> 
> -B

 

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear B,  
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for your sincere email and your love for _Captain America_.
> 
>  
> 
> It’s funny how our lives can change with the most innocent and unexpected of events. I could say something about the flapping of butterfly wings causing a hurricane somewhere, but that would be stealing someone else’s words.
> 
>  
> 
> You do matter and I have heard you.
> 
>  
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
>  
> 
> -S

 

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear S,
> 
>  
> 
> I have to be honest. I wrote the first email after I’d had a few drinks and when I’m drunk, I get a bit melodramatic. I’m sorry for that.
> 
>  
> 
> I never thought in a million years you would write back to me. You must have thousands of fans writing to you. How do you even have time for that?
> 
>  
> 
> On second thought, you could be an automatic response robot writing back, or a disgruntled assistant who has to reply to boring emails like mine all day.
> 
>  
> 
> You have made my day though, and trust me, I really needed it.
> 
>  
> 
> -B
> 
>  

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear B,
> 
>  
> 
> You got me. It really has been a robot writing back this whole time. S. Grant Rogers is currently sitting on a beach in Tahiti.
> 
>  
> 
> I’m happy to have brightened up your day. After all, I, a humble piece of technology, exist to serve. Are there any other requests?
> 
>  
> 
> -S
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. I don’t think your emails are boring.

 

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear S,
> 
>  
> 
> For an auto-response robot, you’re pretty impressive.
> 
>  
> 
> Can I ask something really cheesy? Normally, I wouldn’t, but lately, my life has been a shit show so indulge me. (Plus, since you’re a robot, I don’t think you have the software capability to judge me.)
> 
>  
> 
> When did the Captain realize he was in love with his best friend?
> 
>  
> 
> -B

 

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear B,
> 
>  
> 
> If you think I’m impressive, you should see the other robot that’s writing the book for him.
> 
>  
> 
> In response to your question, I think the Captain has loved the Soldier the whole time. They knew each other as kids and grew up together, but it took a while for him to come to terms with those feelings. Love is complicated and there are different kinds of love. He didn’t wake up one day with an epiphany. Eventually, everything just made sense.
> 
>  
> 
> -S

 

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear S,
> 
>  
> 
> I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you about this. My friends would just laugh me out of the room.
> 
>  
> 
> -B

 

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear B,
> 
>  
> 
> The beauty of the internet is that anonymity can opens doors you never thought possible. Moreover, confiding in strangers is much easier than confiding in the people you know because you’re not emotionally invested. You could break their heart and never have to see them again.
> 
>  
> 
> -S

 

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear S,
> 
>  
> 
> Can I ask you another question? Are the characters based on people you know? I can relate to the Soldier the most, but I’m curious where you drew inspiration from.
> 
>  
> 
> -B
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. Nice try. I’m not giving you my banking details.

 

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear B,
> 
>  
> 
> I drew on a few of my personal experiences for the Captain. I was pretty small and sickly as a kid. Our similarities end there though. I’ve never attempted to join the army or cross behind enemy lines to save someone.
> 
>  
> 
> The Agent is based on a girl I knew in high school whom I thought I had a crush on until I realized that girls weren’t my type. The Inventor is modeled after someone well-known in the media, but I’m not going to say who it is. You can probably guess though.
> 
>  
> 
> As for the Soldier, he’s very similar to the imaginary friend I made up as a kid. Whenever I got in a fight, I would pretend I had a best friend who would always stick up for me. Don’t laugh; I had a lonely childhood.
> 
>  
> 
> -S
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. It was worth a try.

 

\---

 

 

Hydra’s collapse pulled Bucky’s world from underneath his feet.

 

After Natasha’s phone call that morning, Bucky followed out her instructions exactly. He naïvely thought he could go out, retrieve the memory stick, and be back at the hotel before Steve woke up. 

 

Unfortunately, Rumlow caught up with Bucky just as he was leaving the bank with the memory stick. Bucky got chased down a maze of alleyways, ducking ricocheting bullets. While running, Bucky tripped and fell on his arm, injuring himself and slowing down enough that he got cornered. Rumlow’s face was smug as he spouted some villainous speech about “heads” and “cutting off something” that Bucky wasn’t even paying attention to. As he stared down the barrel of Rumlow’s gun, Bucky’s last terrified thought was, _I never said goodbye to Steve._

 

A gunshot rang out.

 

Bucky’s memories after that were fuzzy, a product of his shock and injuries, his doctors had explained. The police had showed up just in time.

 

Bucky was in the hospital for a few days for his broken arm, and then detained by the feds. He was interrogated in the bowels of secret government facilities and accused of heinous crimes that he wasn’t even aware of.

 

As they investigated deeper into Hydra, Bucky discovered that he wasn’t as blameless as he’d thought. He’d signed off on a bunch of shipping and expense orders over the years, not knowing that the actual cargo was much different than what the papers said.

 

Additionally, it seemed his business trips seemed to overlap with a pattern of murders and assassinations. These were not coincidences.

 

Bucky felt sick and disgusted with himself. Natasha was right. Hydra had been using him, and he was stupid enough to let it happen without even realizing it.

 

In the end, Natasha stayed true to her word, and after a lengthy process, Bucky was eventually proven innocent and ignorant of Hydra’s criminal activities. He supposed he should be more thankful that he wasn’t sitting in a maximum security prison.

 

He only cared about one thing, but by the time they let him go, Steve was long gone.

 

Months afterwards, Bucky’s resentment burned itself into a cynical hollowness that he couldn’t escape. He shut the world out. He stopped talking to his friends, stopped leaving his apartment. He probably would have stopped eating too if Natasha didn’t bring food over and forced him to eat it in front of her.

 

She made him go to a therapist too. Dr. Banner was patient and calm, and listened without judgment. He said Bucky was depressed and that all the sudden changes in his life were too much all at once. He recommended slowly taking up hobbies again, and he prescribed medicine that made Bucky feel only marginally better.

 

Bucky picked _Captain America_ one night. He hadn’t touched it since the airport, but something in him wanted to experience the same happiness he’d felt months ago. He couldn’t finish it though; all of the memories of Steve came pouring out like salt on an angry wound.

 

Drowning his anxiety in cheap beer and vodka, he came across S. Grant Roger’s website one night. He barely remembered the email he sent off and hadn’t thought anything of it until S. Grant Rogers wrote back.

 

The reply was simple, and if Rogers was embarrassed by Bucky’s maudlin confession, he was kind enough to not let it show. He said that Bucky mattered, and whether it was a placating comment or heartfelt, it was enough to cheer him up a bit. Bucky wrote back, trying to emulate his former charming self.

 

The surprising part was that S. Grant Rogers kept writing back. Bucky found himself looking forward to the daily emails as he carefully filed the details about his pen pal away. At first, it was a relief to know that Rogers, who called himself “S”, couldn’t see what a wreck Bucky was behind a computer screen. He made Bucky’s monotonous and miserable days feel more bearable. Eventually, they became something like friends with their playful conversations, and gradually, Bucky started to feel more human again.

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear S,
> 
> I had a job interview today. It’s the one that my friend has been bothering me about for months, except that when I showed up, it was less of an interview and more of an orientation. I guess that the company already knew about me from when I was still at my old job so they offered me a position on the spot.
> 
>  
> 
> So, the good news is that I am now employed, but the bad news is that I can’t sit and marathon six seasons of television shows in my underwear during the day anymore.
> 
>  
> 
> -B

 

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear B,
> 
>  
> 
> That’s fantastic news! I wish all my job interviews went like that!
> 
>  
> 
> And don’t worry; I’ll take over marathoning TV for you in your absence.
> 
>  
> 
> -S

 

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear S,
> 
>  
> 
> If you’re trying to make the life of an author seemed really glamorous and busy, I have to say that you’re failing on that front.
> 
>  
> 
> At least you’ve got the “mysterious and reclusive author” thing going for you. Speaking of which, I am really curious though; what does your first initial stand for?
> 
>  
> 
> -B

 

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear B,
> 
>  
> 
> Do you know how many people have asked me about my name? If I told you, wouldn’t that ruin my “mysterious and reclusive” image?
> 
>  
> 
> -S
> 
>  

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear S,
> 
>  
> 
> I hope it’s not something like “Rumpelstiltskin” but I guess it’d be “Sumpelstiltskin” for you.
> 
>  
> 
> You’re not the only man of mystery, you know. You don’t know what the “B” stands for either.
> 
>  
> 
> -B

 

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear B,
> 
>  
> 
> Well, I finally got another chapter finished, but I have to read over it before I send it off for a draft of editing. Personally, I hate the editing part. Everything sounds so well-planned and eloquent in my head, but when I actually write it out and reread it, it’s terrible. At least it’s another chapter closer to finishing _The Winter Soldier_.
> 
>  
> 
> -S
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. Isn’t it for “Barnes”?

 

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear S,
> 
>  
> 
> You really shouldn’t tease with _The Winter Soldier_ , especially when I can’t read it yet and you’re not allowed to give away spoilers. Aren’t you writer types supposed to be really into the whole process of capturing the human spirit with words and poetry, or something like that?
> 
>  
> 
> Hang in there though. I’ll make sure your hard work doesn’t go to waste. Once it’s published, I promise to fawn over every sentence in the book.
> 
>  
> 
> -B
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. Nope. I go by my middle name. There is no likely way you’re going to guess it.

 

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Bartholomew,
> 
>  
> 
> I didn’t even choose this. I wanted to draw. I’m happy with drawing the spirit of the human condition or whatever it is that people think we do. Some days, writing just makes me want to put a fist through the computer.
> 
>  
> 
> -S

 

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Skipper,
> 
>  
> 
> So, if I asked you to draw me like one of your French girls, you’d do it? Because, I’ve got to say, it’s pretty damn tempting.
> 
>  
> 
> What about changing _Captain America_ into a kid’s book? That way you can still write your story but also draw your own illustrations? Just, maybe, take out the violent killing scenes, okay?
> 
>  
> 
> -B
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. Do you really think I sound like a Bartholomew?

 

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Bruno,
> 
>  
> 
> If you’re trying to shock me with the French girls comment, it’s not working. I went to art school, you know. I had whole classes where we learned to draw nudes.
> 
>  
> 
> Keep this to yourself, but I’ve actually been in discussion with some people to turn _Captain America_ into a graphic novel. I would be doing most of the artwork. Nothing’s been finalized yet, and I obviously have to finish _The Winter Soldier_ first.
> 
>  
> 
> -S

 

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Seymour,
> 
>  
> 
> I am scandalized to hear that you learned to draw porn, but even more disappointed to know you’ve been holding out on me this entire time.
> 
>  
> 
> You aren’t afraid I’ll leak the news of the graphic novel onto the message boards? News like this would be huge in the fandom. You might have to bribe me to keep me quiet. Maybe a clue or two about what’s going to happen in _The Winter Soldier_? I won’t tell if you won’t.
> 
>  
> 
> -B
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. I wasn’t joking about being drawn ;)

 

\---

 

“You should meet up with him,” Clint suggested out of the blue one day.

 

Steve was having lunch with Clint and Sam at a local bistro that made the best Reuben sandwiches in the city. Sam had wheedled Steve out of the apartment, and while Steve had put up a token of resistance, he agreed that he needed a break from his writing. He’d hit a stride lately and had been trying to get everything written down before his inspiration decided to leave him again.

 

Steve gave a start. “What? Why?”

 

“The two of you have been writing love letters to each other for months. Aren’t you a little bit curious about what this guy’s like in real life?”

 

“Are you serious?” Sam interrupted. “He could be a serial killer or a stalker fan. That’s a just a bad idea waiting to happen.”

 

“You sound like a ‘90s internet safety PSA,” Clint snorted with a roll of his eyes.

 

“I’m just saying that Steve has no idea who this guy. He could be emailing from prison.”

 

“He’s not in prison,” Steve defended. “He has a job. He told me about it.”

 

“I could say that I’m rich and own a yacht, but that doesn’t make it true,” Sam said.

 

While Clint and Sam debated, Steve stayed quiet. A part of him wanted to meet James Barnes, or “B” as he signed off on his messages, but neither of them ever seriously discussed it, and Steve was afraid that if he seriously put it forward first, he’d scare him away.

 

He’d secretly Googled “James B Barnes” but the search had returned a wide array of results. Steve reasoned that even he did manage to find “B” on the internet, there was no way to confirm he was actually the person Steve had been writing to. Steve had cleared his browser history after that, feeling guilty that he’d breached an unspoken trust between them.

 

Still, he was curious. He hadn’t expected this familiarity with a virtual stranger. He knew it was the veneer of distance and control on both ends that made their exchange so much more intimate. They flirted a bit, but it was different from actual live interactions.

 

From the very first email, the spontaneity and poignancy of the “B” struck a chord with Steve. It had taken several days to ponder those few cryptic sentences before he wrote back. After a while, Steve wrote to “B” like he’d known him for longer than just a few months. “B” understood in a way that Steve couldn’t even begin to describe, and he didn’t want to lose that because they didn’t live up to each other’s expectations.

 

“Oh, come on! They’re practically internet boyfriends. Steve turns on his puppy dog eyes every time he talks about this guy,” Clint argued.

 

“I’m sitting right here,” Steve protested, wondering why he’d let these guys drag him out today.

 

“A guy whose name we don’t even really know,” Sam countered.

 

“Well, at least he can’t be worse than the guy from the airport,” Clint said, then immediately realizing what just came out, froze. “I mean…”

 

“It’s fine,” Steve said, ineffectively breaking the tension.

 

His friends all knew about the airport incident and they tiptoed around it, trying not to upset him. He still occasionally took out his sketchbook and turned to the page where he’d sketched Bucky reading. It ached, but he tried to convince himself that one day he would look at the picture and not feel anything anymore.

 

Taking advantage of the lull in the conversation, Pietro stopped by their table to collect their empty plates. “Thanks! And tell Wanda it was delicious!” Clint complimented.

 

After that, their conversation drifted on to less volatile topics before Steve excused himself to go back to finishing his book.

 

That night, he couldn’t sleep. The earlier lunch conversation left Steve feeling unsettled and he found himself at a crossroad, pondering which path he should pursue. He went to his computer desk and opened a new email message.

 

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Balthazar,
> 
>  
> 
> Have you wondered how strange it is that we’ve been writing to each other for months and we still don’t know each other?
> 
>  
> 
> Sometimes, I wonder if we’ve crossed paths already. You could have passed me in the street just the other day and we wouldn’t have even known.
> 
>  
> 
> -S

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> Dear Sonny,
> 
>  
> 
> I know that you hate bullies and people who use their power to assert their own superiority. You don’t back down from a fight you believe in. You prefer to write in the early morning and late at night. You’re an only child and your mom raised you on her own. You’re a damn good writer and an even better artist, but you’re so modest about it.
> 
>  
> 
> I feel like I’ve known you for years. How could you say we don’t know each other at all?
> 
>  
> 
> -B

 

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Beowulf,
> 
>  
> 
> You don’t know that I’m terrible at dancing and that I love old, black-and-white movies. You also don’t know that a few months before you emailed, someone left me. I was devastated, but then, I started getting your emails, and you make me smile and laugh more than I have in a long time
> 
>  
> 
> There are things about you that I don’t know either, but I want to learn them. I want to memorize what you look like in the mornings and remember how you take your coffee. I want so much more.
> 
>  
> 
> In your first letter, you said that I changed your life, but you’ve changed mine too.
> 
>  
> 
> I’m asking for a lot, and if I’ve crossed a line, say the word, and I promise I won’t ever bring it up again.
> 
>  
> 
> -S

 

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Simba,
> 
>  
> 
> I can’t begin to tell you how afraid I am that I’m going to disappoint you even though you’ve been with me through some of my darkest moments. You’ve been so kind and understanding, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel something for you too.
> 
>  
> 
> Six months ago, I met someone too. I was in D.C., at the airport, and it was because of your book that we met. If I hadn’t been reading it, we would have never spoken. I’ve never felt anything for anyone else like I did with this guy, but then I lost him, and I haven’t stopped thinking about him since.
> 
>  
> 
> A part of me still has feelings for this other guy. It might change if I met you, but it might not. I have no idea, but whatever happens, it would be unfair of me to start something without you knowing that was why I wrote to you that first night.
> 
>  
> 
> -B
> 
>  

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> If he meant so much to you, why did you leave him?

 

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Sherlock,
> 
>  
> 
> I didn’t willingly mean for it happen. My boss got arrested, and I got thrown into the mess too. By the time I tried to find him, it was already too late.  
> 
>  
> 
> I’m so sorry I’ve wasted your time. I would understand if you stopped writing back. You deserve someone better than me. You’ve been funny, kind, and charming, and I will always appreciate everything you’ve done for me.
> 
>  
> 
> All my love,
> 
>  
> 
> -B

 

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Bono,
> 
>  
> 
> I’m holding a book reading and Q&A session this coming Saturday at Thor’s Thumb-Licking Books. It’s a small, informal event and it starts at 6 pm.
> 
>  
> 
> Please say you’ll come, even if you choose not to talk to me.
> 
>  
> 
> -S

 

 

> **From: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
> **To: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Severus,
> 
>  
> 
> How will you know who I am?
> 
>  
> 
> -B

 

 

> **From: sgrantrogers@sgrantrogers.com**
> 
> **To: jamesbarnes@gmail.com**
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Bucky,
> 
>  
> 
> I’ll know.
> 
>  
> 
> -S                                                                          

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 _500 Days of Summer_ (2009) dir. Marc Webb
> 
> \---
> 
> Beta-read by the lovely [Nat](http://mcrdoctorwho.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I am SO BLOWN AWAY BY YOU GUYS!! Thank you for all your wonderful feedback/kudos/bookmarks! You've all really brightened up my day with your lovely comments! (HAVE I MENTIONED YET HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU ALL?) 
> 
> I was going to split this up into smaller chapters but I decided to put it all together (FOR YOU GUYS)!
> 
> Also, if you notice any weird spacing/formatting, let me know. Ao3's formatting is not cooperating well with me today.
> 
> And my [tumblr](http://chrisevansleftboob.tumblr.com/) if you wanted to come say hi! :)


	4. come if you believe me

_Come if you believe me_  
_Come if you remember the way_  
_If not then I will find you this time  
_ _Wishing you had stayed._

_-_ Andrew Belle, Wants What it Wants

\---

 

“So, you still haven’t figured out how S. Grant Rogers knows your name?” Natasha asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

 

“Well, he does pick a random name every time he writes to me.”

 

Natasha gave Bucky a long stare, opened her mouth, but then closed it again. “You’re right. It’s probably a coincidence,” she reassured.

 

“But it also feels different this time.” Bucky grimaced. The nervous energy pooling low in his gut was making him jittery. He threw another rejected shirt on the bed where Natasha was lounging. “The last email felt,” he paused, considering his word choice, “deliberate.”

 

“You think he knows who you are?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“Maybe. It’s possible. It’s not like my name is a huge secret.” Bucky attempted to knot his tie properly, but gave up after two loops. It was too formal anyways, and he didn’t want to come across as desperate and trying too hard.

 

“So, what if S. Grant Rogers really does know? What are you going do?”

 

Bucky paused. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

 

She made an impatient noise. “You don’t know how old he is or what he looks like. What if he’s married? What if he’s a creep?”

 

“I thought you were supposed to be helping,” Bucky grumbled. He grabbed another shirt and busied himself with the buttons.

 

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed again,” Natasha murmured softly. “I know what happened with that guy, Steve… that was really hard for you.”

 

He met her gaze in the mirror. “I’ll be fine. My expectations aren’t that high,” he said in half jest, even though he knew that she was more than capable of detecting when he was lying.

 

She didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she grabbed a shirt and pair of jeans from his closet and tossed them at him. After putting them on, he had to admit that the outfit she picked out made him look effortlessly good. “If this doesn’t work out, there’s always that internet dating profile I made for you,” she said as she fixed his shirt collar. “Or, I could always recommend someone.”

 

“The last time you ‘recommended’ someone, you set me up with a thief,” he reminded her.

 

“Peter isn’t a thief. He’s an antiques dealer.”

 

Bucky leveled her a look that conveyed _, really_? Natasha shrugged a touch too nonchalantly. “Consider my matchmaking a backup plan.”

 

“More like an incentive to not fuck this up,” he grumbled when he thought she was out of earshot.

 

“I heard that,” she called, and Bucky cursed her freaky hearing abilities.

 

Natasha handed him his coat and scarf, and patted his shoulder. Then, she gave him strict instructions to call her before midnight or she was just going to assume he was dead. “Yes, mom,” he drawled with an exaggerated eye roll before leaving.

 

Bucky arrived much earlier than he needed to, and he took the opportunity to walk around the block. At five-thirty, Bucky stood outside of Thor’s Thumb-Licking Books, wondering if it was too late to change his mind. His hands were trembling, but he gripped the copy of _Captain America_ tighter while the other hand was shoved into his jacket pocket.

 

He felt the weight of his choice sit heavy in his chest. He hadn’t mentioned to Natasha that he’d secretly hoped that Steve had, somehow, gotten invited to tonight’s reading session. It was highly unlikely, of course. Steve didn’t even like _Captain America_ that much, but the stupid part of Bucky couldn’t let it go. He just wanted the chance to explain why he’d suddenly disappeared.

 

As Bucky imagined all the different ways he could bump into Steve, the dilemma of whether or not to go in became rapidly clear to him. He couldn’t do this. Whoever S. Grant Rogers was, he deserved someone better than Bucky.

 

Bucky started to leave, and got half-way down the block before someone called out. “Friend, won’t you be joining us?”

 

He turned around, unsure if the comment had been directed at him. A towering man in red flannel stood in the doorway of the shop and waited expectantly for an answer. “No,” Bucky said slowly. Despite the friendly demeanor, the man’s size was intimidating. “Just passing by.”

 

“You are here for _Captain America_ , are you not? I see you have the book.”

 

Bucky hid the book behind his back, not that it actually changed anything. “I just remembered something I have to do,” he lied unconvincingly.

 

However, the man was not having any of this. “Come,” he summoned with his arms spread wide and welcoming. “You are here now. Do not miss this opportunity.”

 

The other man introduced himself as Thor, the proprietor of the shop, before drawing Bucky inside. The interior was bigger than it seemed from the outside, and it was made cozy and welcoming by the warm lighting. There was an elegant feel to the atmosphere. Red drapes that framed the windows were tied back with heavy, gold tassels while the pillars were embossed to look like carved marble. The place looked like it should have classical music playing softly in the background.

 

Thor’s Thumb-Licking Books also conveniently connected to the café next door, Clint’s Coffee Pot, which was closed for the evening. The café’s more modern and chic decoration was vastly different from the bookshop, but somehow, despite the clash between contemporary and classical, the two shops complemented each other. Bucky did not doubt that this place was a popular location for book and coffee lovers.

 

An open area was set up with folding chairs arranged in a curved, semi-u shape. The front rows were already sat with eager fans. Bucky’s gaze quickly swept the room, looking for anyone who looked like they recognized him, but no one took more than a passing glance. The seats were filling up quickly, and he chose his close to the back.

 

To his right, a young couple was engaged in an animated discussion about the book and author. The one with a Scottish accent astutely pointed out that S. Grant Rogers didn’t do public appearances, so why was he holding a book reading now? Bucky suspected it had something to do with himself, but he kept that piece of information to himself.

 

A man in a suit approached. “Is this seat taken?” he asked.

 

“No, it’s all yours,” Bucky offered.

 

The man had arrived alone, just like Bucky, and they sat in awkward silence for a bit while everyone else around them conversed. Bucky craned his head to scan the room several more times until the man beside him got curious. “Are you waiting for someone?”

 

“I was just looking for someone,” Bucky replied distractedly.

 

“A friend?”

 

“I don’t know,” he replied slowly. “I don’t know who he is.”

 

The man hummed in understanding, and then casually asked, “Are you a big _Captain America_ fan?”

 

“I enjoy the book,” Bucky replied politely because revealing that he’d pretty much memorized the first chapter word for word might be a bit more than the man wanted to know.

 

“Ah,” he said simply. “I just thought given the state of your book…” he gestured to Bucky’s well-loved copy which bore the signs of multiple rereads and a few coffee stains.

 

It was then Bucky registered that the other man’s hands were empty. He didn’t have a copy of _Captain America_ , unlike all the other fans that had shown up. A moment of panic hit Bucky as every part of him tensed up. The last email “S” sent said that he would know who Bucky was. Was this S. Grant Rogers?

 

Oh, no.

 

What did he do now? Should he ask outright? Should he subtly quote one of their emails?

 

Bucky snuck a glance out the corner of his eye. The man was middle-aged, roughly in his fifties, which surprised Bucky; “S” sounded younger in his emails, although Bucky really didn’t know how he could tell. It wasn’t like either of them had revealed anything about age, physical features, or literally anything else that would help Bucky pick him out of a room.

 

“You didn’t bring your book,” Bucky spluttered.

 

“I don’t need it,” he replied. “It’s at home.”

 

Well, shit. That didn’t help at all.

 

Bucky’s heartbeat started to pick up a much more rapid pace. He tried not to show any outer signs of his panic attack as he attempted to steady himself with deep breathing techniques Dr. Banner had taught him.

 

“It’s funny that no one seems to know what the author looks like,” Bucky tried again.

 

“I suspect everyone’s going to find out very soon,” the man said unhelpfully. If he wanted Bucky to squirm a bit, he was doing a very good job of it.

 

Bucky tried to recall a more specific fact from their exchanges, but his brain was being very uncooperative while under stress. Bucky, however, managed some very unattractive wheezing noises that he didn’t even realize were coming from him until people stopped talking and all turned to look at him.

 

“Are you alright,” a woman with a soft, English accent asked.

 

He nodded, still unable to trust himself to speak yet. Luckily, Thor, who’d been greeting guests, noticed and quickly brought over a bottle of water before Bucky passed out.

 

After Bucky was able to breathe normally again, the man seemed to finally take pity on him.  “Phil Coulson,” he said, extending his hand out.

 

Bucky deflated with visible relief even though his anxiety didn’t completely disappear. If this was his initial reaction, then it was very possible Bucky was going to have a heart attack when he met the actual S. Grant Rogers.  

 

He introduced himself and shook Phil’s hand. “Um, are _you_ a big _Captain America_ fan?” Bucky asked.

 

“Absolutely,” Phil nodded. “ _Captain America_ is my one of my favorite superheroes.”

 

“But, don’t you want to get your book signed by S. Grant Rogers?” He held up his own book as an example.

 

“I already have a signed copy,” Phil said with a smile. “I had my trading cards signed too.”

 

“There are _Captain America_ trading cards?” Bucky exclaimed. He had no idea they existed, but now that he knew, he wanted them.

 

“Well, no, not actually,” Phil explained. “The author drew them especially for me.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Bucky was not jealous.

 

Okay, Bucky was a little bit jealous. He’d been emailing with “S” for months now and he never got offered any special trading cards.

 

“So, you’ve met the author?” Bucky tried not to sound petty about it.

 

“Yeah, once or twice,” Phil replied coolly, as if there weren’t people here who wouldn’t give their left arm to know what S. Grant Rogers looked like.

 

“What’s he like?” he asked.  

 

Phil studied Bucky for a moment. “He’s a really wonderful person, but he’s been through an emotional rollercoaster lately.”

 

Bucky swallowed uncomfortably as Phil looked at him like he could see through him. “Yeah?”

 

Phil leaned in and lowered his voice threateningly. “If you try to play any games with him, I will tase you and watch _Supernanny_ while you drool into the carpet.”

 

The back of Bucky’s neck prickled as he processed Phil’s comment. He got the distinct feeling that he had missed something, and he was about to ask what the hell that meant, but Thor was already standing at the front, holding out his hands to quiet everyone down.

 

“Thank you all for coming,” his sonorous voice carrying through the store. “Now, please remember there are absolutely no photography or recordings of any kind allowed. We’ll have an intermission after the reading and then resume with questions and signings. Refreshments will be available.” There was some light applause. “Now, if I may introduce my friend and the man you all came to see…” Thor paused for dramatic effect as Bucky held his breath and leaned in, “…S. Grant Rogers!”

 

Every clapped, and S. Grant Rogers came out.

 

Bucky felt his heart stop, and the dread that had been coiling in his chest seized his lungs. His first instinct was to run, but when he tried to get up to leave, a firm hand gently grasped his upper arm. “You should stay,” Phil whispered. Bucky, still too stunned to resist, sat woodenly. His mind was a disordered mess of panic and questions.

 

Steve looked amazing in his blue cardigan and jeans. He smiled uncertainly at the group of adoring fans, as if he wasn’t used to all the attention, and made his way to the stool that had been prepared for him. All the while, his eyes flickered back and forth, searching for someone.

 

Steve cleared his throat. “Uh, hi, hello. Thanks for making it out tonight. As you probably know, public appearances aren’t my thing, but, uh, I made an exception for tonight because there’s someone special here, someone who means a lot to me.” Everyone in the crowd looked around, wondering who the lucky person was. “He reminded me that real heroes are the ones that inspire you, the ones that pick you up during those dark times and keep you moving along.”

 

He opened up to a bookmarked page, but before he began, he added, “This was written before I met this person, but now that I’ve found him, I realize I’ve been waiting my whole life to say these words to him.” Steve’s expression was wistful, as if he had a million more words he wanted to say.

 

Taking a deep breath, he began to read. The passage he’d chosen was an emotional scene after the Captain had lost his best friend, one that Bucky had read dozens of times. Still, nothing compared to hearing Steve read it aloud. He was confident, and not once did he waver. His deep voice was soothing and familiar, and the words flowed from him, earnest and profound. Everyone was spellbound by the magic as time seemed to stop in the little bookshop.

 

“‘…Even when I had nothing, I had him…’”1 Steve looked up, and his eyes finally found Bucky’s during that little pause. Bucky was transfixed; he couldn’t have looked away even if he’d wanted to. After what felt like several minutes, though it was more likely just a few seconds, Steve went back to his book, and he continued on reading. When he finished, there were more than a few sniffles and sighs from the audience.

 

Thor came back to announce a break, and people started to get up and move around. Bucky continued to stay where he was. His mind was still numb. _This_ was what he’d wanted, what he’d been dreaming about, but the sudden revelation felt overwhelming.

 

At some point, Bucky distantly registered that Steve had gotten up and was attempting to make his way over to where he was sitting.

 

He wasn’t ready for this.

 

Overcome with genuine terror, Bucky bolted before Phil could stop him again.

 

 

\---

 

 

Steve felt like the universe was laughing at him. He’d accepted that he’d had his heart broken by someone he’d known for less than a day, as clichéd as that sounded, but now, it was time to move on. So, he’d taken a leap of faith and told “B” that he’d wanted the two of them to be more than just some words on a computer screen; Steve wanted to be with James Barnes, whoever he was and whatever the “B” stood for.

 

Then, out of 7.1 billion people in the world, James Barnes turned out to be Bucky.

 

As Alanis Morisette once sang, “Life had a funny way of sneaking up on you.”2

 

Going back to reread all the emails Bucky had sent, Steve forced himself to re-evaluate what he thought he knew. He’d convinced himself that Bucky never wanted more than a quick roll in the sheets. It was the most logical explanation for why he’d woken up alone, but everything Bucky wrote to S. Grant Rogers contradicted that.

 

_Because of you, my life has changed, and I don’t even know you…_

 

His friends noticed his moping, and dragged the story out of him one night. Sam called in some favors and had a comprehensive background check done on James Barnes. They discovered that Bucky had been investigated under suspicion of ties with criminal organizations through Hydra. Later, he was acquitted of all accused crimes, which Sam was still not entirely sure that it absolved Bucky’s character. They also found out that he’d been arrested the morning he was supposed to fly back to New York with Steve, so at least he hadn’t been lying about that part.

 

Sam didn’t trust Bucky and told Steve to end correspondence immediately. Clint and Kate were already putting together an increasingly complex and ridiculous plan for revenge. Thor offered to teach Steve how to punch someone hard enough to break their nose.

 

Ultimately, after many sleepless nights and asking himself what he believed in, Steve realized that he’d had it all wrong. This wasn’t some cosmic level joke. It was a second chance from the universe. 

 

However, at the author reading, Steve reconsidered that idea as his second chance ran away from him.

 

As Steve maneuvered his way around the chairs and people, Phil reached out grabbed his elbow lightly. “You don’t owe him anything,” he reminded before releasing Steve’s arm. He nodded before dashing after Bucky, bursting out of the bookshop in an agitated panic. He had been prepared to run down the street to chase after him, but he didn’t need to.

 

Bucky looked like he’d been pacing. The dim street lamp illuminated the expression of trepidation on his face. Steve realized it probably wasn’t the best time to register how good Bucky looked tonight.  He looked like he stepped off the cover of a magazine. The flattering cut of his coat paired with the black scarf that was wrapped loosely around his neck made Steve’s mouth go dry.

 

“I can explain,” Steve said, breaking the silence first, wondering if he’d made a mess of things by ambushing him like this. His chest clutched at the sight of Bucky’s copy of _Captain America_ that was still tucked in the crook of his arm.

 

“Don’t say anything,” Bucky pleaded. “I understand if don’t forgive me, but I need to tell you before I lose my nerve.” Bucky rubbed his hand over his face. He explained what had happened that morning in D.C., his company being investigated and being taken into federal custody. It was essentially everything Steve already knew, thanks to Sam’s snooping, but hearing it from Bucky made his heart ache. “It’s my fault, but I—” he stopped again. “You have to know that I am sorry.”

 

“Bucky,” Steve murmured, wanting to reach out.

 

“I never wanted to hurt you. I- I won’t bother you anymore,” he stammered, his mask cracking.

 

Bucky’s words felt like a second betrayal as all of Steve’s insecurities came rushing back. “No,” Steve whispered brokenly.

 

“You never have to hear from me again,” Bucky promised, taking a step back.

 

Something inside of Steve snapped. “No,” he repeated firmly before striding forward and cupping his hands on either side of Bucky’s face. “Don’t make me go through that again.”

 

His mouth crashed down roughly against Bucky’s before he had time to properly react. Bucky gasped, but after he got over his initial shock, he arched into it. He made a noise in the back of his throat, a small whimper, and it ignited Steve like a fire as the kiss grew more frantic. Tilting his head, Steve opened Bucky’s mouth wider, pushing deeper and harder, as if Bucky could somehow taste the truth on his tongue. Fingers hesitantly laced through Steve’s hair, just the way he remembered it, pulling at him until there wasn’t any space between them anymore. 

 

With every pulse of Steve’s heartbeat, his mind could only think of, _don’t leave me, don’t leave me_ , like a silent prayer.

 

When they finally broke apart, breathing heavily, their foreheads were still pressed against each other’s. One of Bucky’s hands was twisted in the fabric of Steve’s shirt, and they stood like that on the street, holding each other like they were afraid of losing the other person again.

 

“I never thought I’d find you again,” Bucky admitted quietly after a while.

 

“You did, though. I’m glad you did.”

 

“I didn’t know I was writing to you.”

 

“I didn’t find out either until you told me about the airport,” Steve said softly. He smoothed a thumb over Bucky’s lower lip, tracing the curve of it. “Would you still have said the things that you did in those emails if you’d known it was me?”

 

“Of course.” Bucky furrowed his brow as if Steve had just asked the most absurd question. “I poured my heart into those letters _because_ I couldn’t get over you.”

 

Steve paused, gathering his thoughts. “I could stop thinking about you, but then you started writing…” He was still trying to wrap his mind around everything. “I wanted it to be you.3”

 

“I looked for you.” Bucky said huskily. “But, I could only get so far with ‘Steve, the most amazing guy I’ve ever set eyes on’ and no last name to go with it.”

 

Steve wanted to kiss Bucky again, or maybe just take him home right now. Instead, he settled for a delirious smile. “Well, to be fair, we were a little too busy with other things to trade last names,” Steve joked.

 

Bucky pulled back to give Steve a shrewd look. “I can’t believe you’re S. Grant Rogers. Why didn’t you just tell me at the time?”

 

“You were reading my book,” defended Steve. “It would have been awkward.”

 

“You let me go on and on about _Captain America_ like an idiot,” he said indignantly. Steve decided that he liked the way Bucky looked when he was embarrassed, the way he ducked his head and avoided Steve’s gaze.

 

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Steve countered seriously. “You haven’t left my mind since the day we met, and ‘idiot’ is definitely not how I would describe you.”

 

Bucky’s mouth curved up into a halfhearted smirk; he still looked like he didn’t quite believe Steve. “How would you describe me then?”

 

Steve hummed as he thought about it. He gently raised Bucky’s hand to softly press the cold skin to his lips. “Charming, incredible, clever…”

 

Bucky was still shaking. “You really don’t hate me?”

 

Steve looked into the familiar pale blue of Bucky’s eyes. “Never.” He closed his eyes and slid the side of his cheek against Bucky’s temple, inhaling his familiar scent. In that small moment, every fear and reservation evaporated, and Steve was left with one last resounding revelation. He’d never stopped loving Bucky.

 

This time, Bucky was the one who tugged Steve forward, pulling him down as Bucky tipped his head back. Steve’s lips were still sensitive from the previous kiss, but Bucky’s tongue was already sliding against his bottom lip. Angling his mouth for better access, Steve licked into Bucky’s mouth, the sensation making Bucky groan. Steve could feel the reverberations against his own chest, which was more than a little encouraging.

 

Bucky took advantage of the fact that Steve wasn’t wearing a coat to slip his cold hands under his shirt. Steve gave a low whine in surprise, but it didn’t stop Bucky from playfully dragging his fingers against the taut skin of his abs, one hand coming to rest on his lower rib cage while the other hand slid dangerously low.

 

“Guys, I really hate to be the one to rain on your parade.” Steve pulled back to see Clint standing in the doorway of the bookstore, looking equal parts mortified and scandalized.  “Steve, you still have a Q & A session to finish, and we’d really hate for you two get arrested for public indecency.”

 

“Phil sent you?” Steve asked, too happy to be anything but amused.

 

“I lost the round of rock, paper, scissors,” Clint grumbled.

 

Steve and Bucky gave a short laugh before turning back to each other. “Could you stick around for a bit while I finish this?” Steve asked.

 

“Steve Grant Rogers,” Bucky smiled, “you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

 

In the background, they could hear Clint’s commentary. “Oh, gross. They’re kissing again.”

 

\---

 

Bucky’s phone was ringing.

 

Groping blindly at the bedside table, he peeked at the screen which was currently displaying Natasha’s name and picture.

 

He wasn’t falling for that one again.

 

He declined the call and rolled back over to where Steve was snoring softly. A minute later, the ringing started again. It kept on ringing to the point where Bucky wanted to throw it against the wall.

 

Apparently, Steve slept like the dead because the phone didn’t bother him, and he barely grunted when Bucky finally flung back the sheets. Stalking into the hallway, he viciously jabbed the “accept call” button. “I don’t care if Fury is another international terrorist and I’ve been accused of murder. You deal with it yourself,” he hissed irritably in lieu of a greeting.

 

“Oh, good. You’re not dead,” Natasha said brightly. “I was just about to call the cops if you weren’t going to pick up.”

 

Bucky made an impatient noise. “Do you realize what time it is?”

 

“I was going to ask you the same thing. What happened to checking in before midnight, huh?” she retorted.

 

Shit. He’d completely forgotten about that. “I was busy and I lost track of time.” It wasn’t a lie.

 

“Okay,” she said, strangely accepting of his excuse. Bucky would have expected her to squeeze him for more details. He decided not to push his luck.

 

“Can I please go back to sleep now?”

 

“Sure. Give my love to Steve. Good night.”

 

“G—”

 

Wait.

 

His sleep addled mind struggled to keep up.

 

“Natasha,” he growled, still processing the information. “Did you know? How did you know?”

 

“How did I know your mystery guy was Steve?” He could practically hear her rolling her eyes on the other end. “Who else would have a name starting with “S” and managed to guess your oddly specific name after you told him about your oddly specific sob story about D.C.?"

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he hissed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

 

“You were about to find out for yourself. Besides, if you knew beforehand, you would have just talked yourself out of going.”

 

Bucky gave a deep, annoyed sigh; he was too tired to argue with her even though she was right.

 

After he said goodbye and disconnected, he snuck back into the room and carefully climbed under the covers. Steve rolled over and sleepily pulled Bucky against his chest, snuggling in close under Bucky’s chin.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky promised, mumbling into Steve’s hair before he drifted back to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 I know this line was from Cap 2, but it's so good that I'm fudging a few things here.  
> 2 "Ironic" by Alanis Morisette (1995)  
> 3 Line was borrowed from [Apes Debemus Imitari (We Should Imitate the Bees)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3777376) by buckysbees. It's also from, as I've been told by many lovely people, _You've Got Mail_ with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks.
> 
> \---
> 
> Beta-read by the lovely [Nat. ](http://mcrdoctorwho.tumblr.com/) Also, any errors are totally my fault.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://chrisevansleftboob.tumblr.com/) if you're interested in coming to say hi. :)
> 
> A HUGE thank you to all of you guys so far!! The support has been absolutely amazing and I want to thank you for taking the time and leaving comments (they're the best part of my day)!!! INTERNET HUGS FOR ALL OF YOU!
> 
> One more to go!!


	5. singing ain't this life so sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any weird spacing, please let me know. AO3 and I don't seem to get along when it comes to formatting.

_‘Cause it takes something more this time_  
_Than sweet sweet lies_  
_Before I open up my arms and fall_  
_Losing all control…_

-David Gray, “This Year’s Love”

 

\---

 

The book launch party, for all intents and purposes, was a raging success. Thor’s Thumb-Licking Books was filled to overcapacity, and the party had spilled next door into Clint’s Coffee Pot.

 

Strangers excitedly mingled with each other, brought together by their love of _Captain America_. On the opposite side of the room, Kate was involved in an enthusiastic discussion with two men, one of which was wearing dark tinted glasses. Thor and two other women were servicing the long line of customers at the till as books and merchandise flew off the shelves. Even Phil, who usually kept his professional and personal lives separate, brought his wife and daughter tonight.

 

The first refreshment trays had been devoured in a matter of minutes by hungry fans, much to Clint’s displeasure. He’d had his eye on the fancy ham and the Havarti, but after disappearing in the back to bring out more copies of _The Winter Soldier_ , he came back to find that there were only a few sad pieces of pepperoni left. Luckily, Thor brought out more platters of finger foods and encouraged everyone to dig in. Apparently, he’d ordered enough food to feed a banquet of people because he just kept bringing out more whenever it started looking like they were going to run out.

 

Bucky stood by the snacks table as he watched Steve do book signings. Steve sat in front of a large cardboard display of the cover of _The Winter Soldier_ , which mirrored the _Captain America_ cover, except the Soldier was dressed in black, tactical gear and had a metal arm.

 

 _The Winter Soldier_ had been released earlier in the week and fans were losing their minds over it. Bucky knew that plenty of people stayed off of the internet to avoid the spoilers, but those that had preordered the novel and finished it in the last couple of days were already speculating on what was going to happen in the third book.

 

This morning, _New York Times’_ Best Sellers list already had Steve’s novel at number six, and it was expected to climb to first place and stay there for weeks to come. Overall, the reviews were positive, and one particular critic, P. Parker, enthusiastically praised S. Grant Rogers for raising moral issues of power corruption and the question of how free freewill really was. Another well-known blogger, who went by the name of Sif, wrote about how refreshing the portrayal of the Black Widow as an equal to her male counterparts rather than a convenient love interest was.

 

Bucky had already read the book a month ago (screwing the author really did have its advantages) when the publisher sent Steve his copy. Initially, Bucky had been willing to wait to read it when it was officially released. In the months leading up to publication, Bucky saw the stress that Steve was under while he made his last changes and approved the final drafts with the editor. Steve had looked haunted, and carried dark spots under his eyes from all the sleepless nights and anxiety. Bucky didn’t want to put any more pressure on Steve, so he’d promised himself that he’d be on his best behavior and not peek at Steve’s author copy, no matter how tempting it was.

 

However, the day it arrived, Steve had shakingly pressed the book into his hands, and said, “I need you to read it first.” He’d left the apartment while Bucky read it in gut-clenching anticipation and exhilaration.

 

If Bucky thought _Captain America_ was amazing, Steve’s sophomore book went beyond that. Bucky was in awe and shock at the way the events twisted and revealed themselves. It was cruel, really, to have the Captain wake up seventy years in the future when all of his contemporaries were either long gone or on the cusp of death. Just when the Captain thought he was making progress and moving on, the Soldier reappeared, except now, he was the Assassin with no memory of his past.

 

The story remained true to its action genre with well-written combat scenes as the Captain took on the antagonistic evil organization threatening to topple the world. However, a subtle undercurrent of sorrow and compassion was explored as the Captain tried to come to terms with how much the world had changed and, in some ways, remained the same. It was heartbreaking, but the complex poignancy of the characters was so more elaborate than their surface veneers.

 

Steve was a master storyteller, but didn’t see that in himself. As  _The_ _Winter_ _Soldier_ had neared its release date, Steve had somehow gotten it in his head that he was going to disappoint his readers. It took a lot of convincing to distract him from those doubts, but Bucky knew Steve would never stop being his own worst critic.

 

While Bucky continued his silent contemplation, Clint wandered over to join him. “Everyone can see you eye-fucking your boyfriend,” he said through a mouthful of sausage and deli cheeses.

 

Bucky tore his gaze away from Steve who happened to look especially ravishing in his blue button-up shirt. “Would you rather I eye-fuck you instead?” he asked amusedly.

 

Clint accepted the challenge, his plate of food put down and forgotten as he stared deep into Bucky’s eyes. It was more of a staring contest rather than any sort of a passionate stare, especially since Clint’s mouth was still comically full of food.

 

“You two are ridiculous,” Natasha accused, appearing beside Clint and ending the competition. “You took the last deviled egg,” she said to Clint, clearly displeased.

 

Sheepishly, Clint offered it to her while Bucky grinned. Clint and Natasha had been circling each other for some time now, but they were playing some weird version of Chicken where neither one wanted to make the first move.

 

Natasha spotted another friend, and as both she and Clint wandered off, Sam made an appearance. He looked tired as he poured himself a cup of the fruity drink.

 

“Where have you been?” Bucky asked. Sam had stuck around when they’d been setting up earlier, but then mysteriously disappeared.

 

“I was in the back room finishing the book. I got slammed with work this week and didn’t have time to actually read much of it before tonight.” Sam took a long gulp. “I refuse to let strangers spoil it for me,” he said emphatically.

 

Bucky hummed in understanding as Sam filled himself a plate of food. “So, that ending, huh?” he prompted casually, as if he hadn’t been obsessing over it for the past month. The worst part about getting to read the book early was that he couldn’t talk to anyone else about it other than Steve (and Steve wouldn’t share any spoilers).

 

“I know, right?” Sam exclaimed. “Man, I can’t believe it ended with the Soldier going to the museum exhibit of himself from the war.”

 

“Now he’s going to make us wait another year and a half to find out what happens next,” Bucky sighed.

 

They traded their favorite scenes and theories about the next book. “Falcon’s my favorite. He better be back for the third book.” Sam said, giving him a pointed look as if Bucky had any influence over what Steve chose to write.

 

“I have nothing to do with the next book,” Bucky protested.

 

“Don’t give me that. I saw the dedication,” Sam snorted.

 

Bucky turned his head in a half-hearted attempt to hide the smile. He’d committed page three of the _Winter Soldier_ to memory. _For Bucky, my very own hero who changed my life more than I could ever imagine._ He had made sure to thank Steve _thoroughly_ afterwards to show his appreciation.

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Sam teased, taking in Bucky’s love-struck expression.

 

“Jealous?”

 

“Of your Hallmark love story? No, thanks. I think I get cavities just from being in the same room as you two.”

 

“What did I miss,” Tony interrupted, joining the conversation. Bucky rolled his eyes but refused to elaborate.

 

Tony had been invited to the launch party months ago because Phil had insisted that it would draw in more publicity and it would make Steve look like he was making a good show of extending his courtesy to another fellow author.

 

Tony’s autobiography detailed his rich and glamorous lifestyle, but it had enough in there about growing up in the shadow of his parents to make readers feel sympathetic. His father had been one of the most prolific and notable inventors of the twentieth century, and Tony was the sole heir to the Stark fortune. 

 

Unfortunately, after the initial invitation, Tony took that to mean they were friends, which amused Bucky and annoyed Steve at first. Friendship with a multi-billionaire meant a lot of phone calls and invitations to his opulent parties as well as having him show up unannounced at their apartment with a hangover and shwarma. However, Tony’s appearances became regular occasions, and as mouthy as he was, Bucky came to appreciate Tony’s candor and sarcasm. Thankfully though, Tony’s unexpected visits lessened after they’d introduced him to some of their other friends.

 

“Just two idiots in love,” Sam said without needing to explain the context. Bucky scowled without any real heat while Sam chuckled.

 

“Remind me to ask Thor who did the catering. These are quality nibbles,” Tony marveled as he popped a cocktail shrimp in his mouth.

 

“I think it’s his brother,” Sam supplied helpfully. “He’s got a website or something online.”

 

“Speaking of internet, that reminds me,” Tony said as he pulled out his phone to show Bucky. “Your boy is trending on Twitter right now.”

 

“Is this a good thing?” Bucky asked, going cross-eyed from how close Tony was holding the screen to his face.

 

“The fact that you even had to ask that makes me sad for you.”

 

“Justin Hammer is trending too,” Sam pointed out.

 

Tony made a face and pulled the phone back. “Ignore that idiot. The internet is losing their shit over Steve right now. They’re saying the “S” in S. Grant Rogers stands for ‘Sexy’.”

 

Sam laughed loud enough to draw stares from the people around them while Tony looked entirely too pleased with himself.

 

It hardly surprised Bucky that people were commenting on Steve’s attractiveness, but a little flutter of protectiveness did stir inside of him. Steve never wanted to become any sort of celebrity and all the attention always made him uncomfortable even though he was always generous and kind during author events.

 

Bucky sipped his fruit punch while he listened to Sam and Tony argue about which superheroes would win in one-on-one fights. The rest of the evening was more entertaining than Bucky had originally imagined. He drifted in and out of conversations with various friends, and _only_ almost started a fight with someone when they tried to insist that the Soldier was a villain.

 

Steve was busy the whole time, and between book signings and photo sessions, Bucky didn’t actually get a chance to talk to Steve until nearly midnight when the party was over.

 

“Looks like everyone had a good time,” Bucky said with no small amount of pride. They were taking a break from cleaning up, partially hiding in a corner behind one of the bookshelves.

 

“You’re not the one who’s had to sit there and sign hundreds of books. I think I’m getting carpal tunnel.” Steve flexed his sore hand.

 

“Oh no,” Bucky said, feigning concern. “Do I need to kiss it better?”

 

“I have something else you can kiss better,” Steve murmured, leaning in closer.

 

Bucky gave a short laughed, but Steve’s blue eyes were twinkling and the corner of his mouth was still quirked. Even though they’d been together for months now, Bucky was still breathless every time he saw the way Steve looked back him.

 

“I love you,” Bucky said softly.

 

“I love you too,” Steve replied naturally.

 

They must have said those words thousands of times already: during three a.m. phone calls when they were separated, shouted during heated arguments, whispered in the darkest of nights, and the first thing said in the morning.

 

Like any other relationship though, theirs wasn’t always perfect. Steve was stubborn as hell and a damn idealist even when the whole world tried to prove him wrong. Bucky knew he wasn’t faultless either; he had a quick temper and worked himself up over things that didn’t really matter. However, Bucky couldn’t imagine falling in love with anyone else other than Steve. It was only ever Steve, and Bucky would always choose him. 

 

Bucky ran his thumb along the line of Steve’s jaw, just the ghost of a touch over warm, golden skin. Steve stared in wonder for several seconds before slowly bending his head and softly kissed Bucky. Around them, the world began to disappear until Bucky could only focus on Steve and the way he felt wrapped in Steve’s strong arms.

 

The kiss started slow and sweet, but soon turned urgent when Steve delicately bit down on Bucky’s lower lip and teasingly dragged his tongue over the same spot. He did it again, and Bucky just barely held back a whimper that probably wouldn’t have been polite in a bookstore setting.

 

Steve was tormenting him and Bucky felt dizzy, like he’d been drinking even though he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol all evening. Refusing to be outdone, Bucky slid his hands down the length of Steve’s spine and continued even further down to squeeze Steve’s deliciously firm ass before stroking his thighs inappropriately.

 

He wished they weren’t in public right now. Bucky wanted to slip Steve’s gorgeous cock out so that he could wrap his wet mouth around him. He loved the way Steve looked down at him when Bucky was on his knees, swirling his tongue around the tip and sucking him off while rendering Steve gasping and incoherent.

 

Steve broke the kiss and Bucky almost whined from the sudden loss. “Can’t. Not here,” Steve whispered raggedly. His face was flushed pink.

 

Bucky peeked around the bookshelf, but no one seemed to have noticed they were missing yet. Everyone was either still socializing or tidying up.

 

A devious grin stole over Bucky’s face when he turned back to Steve. “Come with me.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Someplace where we’re going to test how quiet you can be,” Bucky purred, enjoying the way Steve’s eyes dilated, becoming dark and intense with arousal.

 

In the back of the store, Bucky opened the first door he found, which to their luck, was a closet filled with cleaning supplies. Steve stopped for a moment when Bucky tugged his hand. “I’ve never done this before. I mean, in a closet,” Steve choked, embarrassed, which Bucky found oddly endearing.

 

“Well, then let’s change that,” Bucky insisted.

 

It was pitch black, but the darkness seemed to embolden Steve as soon as the door was shut. Bucky stumbled when Steve pressed him against the wall. Muttering a quick apology, he cradled Bucky’s head firmly, and made quick work of reducing Bucky into a breathless and writhing mess. He arched himself as far as Steve would let him while hands roamed, mapping out the defined contours of Steve’s body until Steve finally had to hold his wrists still.

 

“We’re doing this my way,” Steve growled, taking charge.

 

He moved on to trailing scorching and possessive kisses down Bucky’s neck, lightly tugging on Bucky’s hair to give himself better access. Steve scraped his teeth along a particular sensitive spot before applying more pressure when Bucky gasped. Bucky felt like he was about to be devoured. The thought made him shiver in delight as every nerve ending prickled in anticipation of more.

 

Steve eventually returned to Bucky’s desperate mouth, their tongues tangling together, messy and uncontrolled. Steve’s hands slipped down the front of his pants, palming Bucky’s erection. Bucky gave a loud groan, reveling in the delicious pleasure that shot through him.

 

Giving him a playful nip, Steve admonished, “You said we had to be quiet. We don’t want everyone hearing, do we?” Steve was deliberately teasing him, but Bucky was too far gone to care.

 

He cried out louder in surprise as Steve worked his way into Bucky’s boxers. Steve had somehow unzipped the front of Bucky’s pants without him realizing it and now was in the process of pushing the material down. Quick hands wrapped around Bucky’s aching cock, pumping and twisting eagerly. Steve’s thumb brushed a circular pattern over the slit, and Bucky threw his head back, forgetting where he was, and fully moaned.

 

“Fuck! Steve!” he called out.

 

A sudden and poorly timed knock interrupted them. They both startled before freezing guiltily. They could hear shuffling and an awkward cough from outside. “Thor says he’s closing up the shop in five minutes so unless you want to be locked in, I suggest you start pulling up your pants,” Sam’s irritated voice carried through the door. “Oh, and by the way, the next time you two get frisky, you should know there’s a vent in that closet and the sound carries. Everyone can hear you.”

 

After Sam’s heavy footsteps faded, Bucky slumped forward, giggling into Steve’s chest. Steve started snickering too. The mood was effectively ruined, but their sides hurt from laughing too much when they regained their breath. When they finally rejoined the rest of their friends, everyone cheered and wolf-whistled, much to Steve’s mortification.

 

As Thor locked up, the group scattered for the night, each person calling out goodbyes as they headed off in different directions. It had started to rain, and Bucky and Steve decided to splurge on a cab rather than take the subway tonight.

 

Bucky stared out the window, watching the buildings and streets pass by. Steve was slumped against Bucky’s shoulders, clearly exhausted from the whole evening. Public appearances wore him out, but it didn’t stop Steve from going above and beyond for the fans.

 

“You’re quiet,” Bucky commented. He’d meant to be suggestive, but it came out sounding wearied.

 

“Just thinking,” Steve sighed.

 

“About what?”

 

“About how I got so lucky with everything. My book, my friends…” Steve lifted his head to look at Bucky. “You.” Bucky’s heart gave an overjoyed flutter in his chest. “What are you thinking about?” Steve asked back.

 

Bucky took a moment to ponder the right words to try and describe his swirling thoughts. “How happy I am right now,” he whispered, not even sure if _happiness_ could even begin to encapsulate the combination of love and peace that he felt. Steve smiled back in the dimness of the cab, and Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead before interlacing their fingers together.

 

Together, they settled back to sleepily listen to the sultry voice on the radio blend with the distant sounds of traffic and rain.

 

Neither of them needed to say anything more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Random facts that never made it in:**
> 
>  
> 
> \- Bucky always leaves notes now if he’s the first one to get up in the mornings, even if it’s to run out for milk because he wants to make pancakes.  
> \- Steve dedicated his first book to his late mother, Sarah. So, it really meant a lot when he dedicated his second novel to Bucky.  
> \- Phil’s wife is Melinda May and their daughter is Skye.  
> \- There is some consideration of _Captain America_ possibly turning into a movie; Johnny Storm is rumoured to be in the talks to play the lead role.  
>  \- Steve does start on his graphic novel adaptation. One day, Bucky accidentally stumbles across some of Steve’s sketches. Bucky questions a flustered Steve about why the Soldier in the pictures looks so much like him and Steve is forced to admit that he used Bucky as inspiration in the early drafts. (Ha! Take that, Phil “I have special Captain America trading cards” Coulson!) (Thanks to [AlexandriaKeating](http://alexandriakeating.tumblr.com/) for this idea!)
> 
> \---
> 
> That's all, folks! A HUGE thank you for sticking with me through this. I really couldn't have done it without your encouragements. Special shout out to [ Nat](http://mcrdoctorwho.tumblr.com/) for beta reading! YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN SO AMAZING!
> 
> Thoughts and comments are, as always, greatly appreciated!
> 
> (Or, find me on [tumblr](http://chrisevansleftboob.tumblr.com/)!)


End file.
